


Submissive To One

by casstayinmyass



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Aftercare, Desperation, Dry Humping, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Intimacy, Kissing, Light Dom/sub, Masturbation, Orgasm Control, Public Masturbation, Secret Crush, Shyness, Sub Papa Emeritus III
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:29:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28394652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casstayinmyass/pseuds/casstayinmyass
Summary: Papa has a crush on a new initiate, who finds out when she overhears a private moment in a not so private place.
Relationships: Papa Emeritus III/Reader
Kudos: 47





	Submissive To One

**Author's Note:**

> Requested through that one site, Koko-Fifi. Inquire about yours on my tumblr, @kissthegoghuleh.

The Third and youngest Emeritus brother’s sexual prowess is no secret around the Abbey. While lust and carnal experience is a traditional part of life in the Church, Terzo takes it to a new level. Always one to indulge to the maximum free of limitation, the Third Papa had left no willing Sibling wanting.

Because of the status of most _gifted_ within the Abbey, Papa’s cocksure attitude was a staple of his personality; that is, until it came to the new initiate, a Sister of Sin that made Papa weak in the knees.

Papa smooths his hair back, walking down the hall with his mitre tucked under one arm. This is the first time he had ever worried about a sermon he had given. _Had his hair remained in the fashion he had styled it in before mass? Did she catch that little trip when he stepped on his robes?_ Papa’s mind is racing a mile a minute, and all over something he wished he had more control over.

A hopeless romantic, he’s at risk to fall hard—and fall hard, he did. No wonder he kept slipping up on his lines during the prayer; she was there in the back, her chin tilted up as if she was watching him make a spectacle of himself just for her and her alone. Terzo feels a shiver run through his body at that. Just the thought of you making him do anything was enough to stir him—this morning before mass, he hadn’t had enough time after waking up late to properly get himself off in the shower, and had to switch the water to cold to get rid of his erection. Anything could bring it back at this point, but his little crush on you was testing his resolve. 

“A crush,” Terzo huffs aloud to himself as he stomps his way through two Siblings coming his way, “Bah. I am Papa. They should have crushes on me.” He stops to admire himself in the metal of a statue of Baphomet he passes, and shoots himself finger guns. “And they do.” He keeps walking, cock twitching insistently. “But she is a mystery. Who knows what she could want?”

On your way back to your dormitory after mass, you turn the corner, mind preoccupied. Though you’re new to the Church, day by day you had found it easier to get around, getting to know new people and finding your place within the convent. Papa had been nice to you as well, welcoming you into his flock with open arms. He had been warm toward you, if not a little flighty.

Your thoughts distract you from your surroundings.

“Oh! Sister.” You realize you had run into Terzo—so close that he has his hand on your chest, breaking your fall. Terzo stares down at his hand in awe, before quickly retracting it and running his fingers through his floppy hair. “Forgive me, si?”

“It’s okay, Papa,” you say, “It didn’t feel too awful.”

“My hand on your bust?”

You arch an eyebrow. “No, running into you.”

“Ah! Yes, of course. Eh, no broken bones?” he tries to joke to cover up his embarrassing question, and you look down.

“I seem to be in good shape.” You start to smirk. “You, on the other hand…” He swallows as your hand reaches out to smooth down his chasuble.

“Me?”

“You seem a little nervous about something. Are you nervous, Papa?” You grip the fabric a little. He exhales.

“Of course not. I thank you for your concern. I was only thinking of all the paperwork I have to do in my office later.” He attempts a chuckle, which comes out more as a forced cough.

“Oh yes,” you nod, running your hand up and down the fabric at your fingertips, “All that work must be so hard. Wouldn’t it be nice to just sit back, and let someone else take control for a little while?” Papa lets out a soft groan, but closes his mouth immediately, embarrassed.

“Apologies, Sorella. I’m afraid I’m a bit wound up today.”

“Hm? Why’s that?” You look down. Papa stutters.

“The… work. Lots of it, it preoccupies me.” You nod downward.

“Does work make you hard?” The charade is up. Papa swallows, and goes to move his chasuble to hide himself. He’s quickly reminded there’s no use in doing that now, as you’ve already seen his shame. You could swear he’s blushing underneath that paint, flushing down to his neck. “Now what could it be that got you so worked up?” you murmur, taking a step closer to him. Papa keeps his eyes focused forward, lids flickering shut as your intoxicating scent fills his air. “Or who?”

“It…” Papa begins. His breath comes out ragged, chest heaving now. “You see… I, eh…”

You pull back and saunter away, looking back over your shoulder. “Well. Whoever it is will be lucky tonight.”

Terzo takes out a handkerchief and mops his neck with it, watching your ass sway as you walk away from him. His cock gives another throb, reminding him just how badly he wants to release the tension your stare built up in him.

He really should have enough control over himself not to do it, but his many years of indulgence have also failed to teach him the discipline of delayed gratification. Impatient, the Third Emeritus finds his way briskly down a dark corridor, and wastes no time palming himself as he finds a dark corner. His cheeks warm again as he feels his cockhead slide just above the top of his waistband—when he had tucked into his boxers this morning, he hadn’t expected to become this indecent in the hallway. Humping his hips upward and toward the wall a few times, his cockhead slides up and down against the restrictive material of his pants, coaxing a few drops of precum out. Terzo’s arms shake as he braces himself against the wall, head hanging as he huffs out air. It feels so fucking good, such a relief to have even the slightest rub of the fabric against his neglected cock. Rocking his hips up once more, his cock gives a throb that begs not to be ignored, and the Papa has to reach down and unzip.

“Satanas,” he hisses through clenched teeth, “Ai, _cazzo_ .” Fist clenched around himself, he gives the soft skin a tug up around the dripping head as his bottom lip falls further from his top. The need coils in his stomach like a thrill, and releases into a full body shudder that has Papa tugging harder, a little faster, the wet noises of pre slicked fingers filling the lonely hallway. If he hurried, he could get off and go back to his business—he could wash the leather gloves later. He pictures the wall in front of him with a couple splatters of cum dripping down it, _his_ cum, visualizing it to make it so. Leaving his mark like that on the wall, as he wished he could in your hand or inside of you.

Another moan leaves him, and he can’t stop the rise in volume as he jerks himself. All he can do now is hope nobody comes by and finds him.

 _Damn_.

You had forgotten your grucifix back in the chapel. After sufficiently teasing Papa, you’re feeling pretty good about yourself. You’re certain some lucky Sibling would win the chance to be his object of affection tonight after that—but you can’t shake the way he was looking at you. He seemed almost in awe of you, bashful and nervous. It was nothing like Papa; of the month you’d been around, you’d never seen him like that before.

A sudden noise interrupts your thoughts. Stopping in your tracks, you glance in the direction you heard it from. Your curiosity leads you to a small corridor ahead. Not daring to peek around the corner, you instead keep your ear close and your body against the wall to catch who it might be.

“Ah!”

You bite your bottom lip. Sounds like someone’s having a good time in the corridor. Just as you’re about to move on, you hear your name uttered with a whine barely able to hush itself—in a tone that sounds an awful lot like Papa. In a bold move, you turn the corner. He’s there alone, not accompanied as you had thought, and his arm is jerking in fast motions beneath his robes.

“Papa?”

His eyes fly open, and Terzo flips around. His hands quickly move to cover his front, trying his best to appear nonchalant. “Sister?”

“What are you up to?”

Papa’s a talented liar, and you know it. He keeps his hands crossed in front of himself as he tries to think of an excuse. “I had to come and inspect the wall along here, as I was told some were crumbling from the decay of the Abbey. As Papa, every little job must be dealt with, si?” His fist clenches as he tries not to rock his hips forward—this doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

You hum. “And was it dealt with?”

“Hm?”

“Were you able to take care of the problem, Papa?” you practically purr. He blinks at you.

“No, Sister. I still find my job unfinished.” He goes to move past you. “So if you will excuse me, I have to—”

“Finish it then.” You stand against the opposite wall, and Papa’s eyes widen momentarily.

“Scusi?”

“You heard me. I want you to show me what you’ve done.” Papa goes to turn around and keep the charade going with the bricks in the wall, but you hold up a finger. “Ah. Take out your cock, and show me just how far along you are.” Papa can’t hold back the whimper. He reaches inside his robes, face burning in a blush as he exposes his erection, red and leaking drops onto the floor. You lick your lips at the sight. “Touch it, nice and slow.”

“Sister, would it be best to go back to my—”

“You started this here, don’t lose your courage on my account,” you insist. “You were just getting into it when I found you.” Papa looks down, and starts to pick his pace back up. You snap your fingers. “Look at me.” He does, and that only seems to spur him on. “Nice and slow. That’s it.” Papa’s heels begin to rock as his head rolls back and hits the wall.

“Please.”

“Please, what? What do you want me to do?” You grin, twirling a lock of your hair. “You want me to wrap my lips around your thick cock and clean you up nice? Lick all that cum off?” You shake your head. “I should be feeding your cum to you.” Papa exhales in a sharp huff, hand moving faster. “Did I say hurry up?” He shakes his head, eyes pleading. You ignore his desperation. “Slow.”

As the most powerful religious leader in the clergy tries his best to do as you say, you slip your finger into your mouth, relishing how eager Papa is to please you.

“You like me, huh?” you smile. Papa groans, reaching down with his free hand to squeeze his balls.

“Is it not obvious?”

“I don’t like that tone,” you sigh. “Hands off.”

“Per favore, mi dispiace—”

“Put your cock back in your pants.” Papa whines, but another snap of your fingers brings him to his knees. He tucks himself away again, and falls forward with one hand supporting him. He looks like a man dying of thirst, crawling toward a mirage. “Now rub.” Willing to humiliate himself any way necessary to finally reach his orgasm, Papa sits back on his heels and begins to rub himself through his pants, robes brushed beside his legs haphazardly.

“Good boy,” you Papa looks up at you through his eyelashes.

“You like to see this, Sorella? Your Papa on your knees for you?” He doubles over momentarily, arm shaking. “I would crawl through fire for you.”

“Men make promises in the heat of the moment,” you respond. “I know; I’ve watched too many of those promises fall through.”

“I’ll do anything you ask.” You brush his hair back, tugging just enough to make him moan.

“So cum.”

Papa drags the heel of his palm across himself in quick, hurried motions, and falls backward, hips pumping against his hand. A loud moan leaves his lips, enough to alert anyone walking by just what you were doing. You watch as the bursts of cum soak through his pants and dirty his leg, one shot even dribbling down to his knee. As he continues to rub, he only adds more to his mess, and soon, there’s a small puddle below him. He looks up to you, raven hair plastered to his sweaty temples. His mouth is parted, gasping for air, and his eyes are downcast in humiliation. He squirms.

“May I get up?” he asks softly. You hold your hand out to him, and he takes it. You pat his arm.

“Papa?”

“Si?” he pants.

“Take me back to your suite.”

Once inside his living room, he tosses off his chasuble, and sheds some layers. You lead him into his large bathroom, getting a bath running immediately. He seems to have rediscovered his self confidence. “Hotter.”

You turn back to where he’s resting against the sink, arms folded. “Pardon?”

“The water. I like it hot as Satan’s fiery asshole.” He winks, and you go to turn the dial up with a laugh. When you stand back up again, you head over to him.

You bring your fingers up to the buttons of his white shirt. Papa looks down at your fingers, and realizes how close his face is to yours. He looks into your eyes, searching, and you press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. His eyes slide shut, and he brings his hand up to curl around yours, helping you with his buttons.

When he’s finally shirtless, you reach down to his open buckle to pull his belt out. Before you can, his hands slide around your waist and he draws you in for a proper kiss. Inhaling sharply, your hands come up between the both of you instinctively—but you soon relax into his arms, allowing him to take what he needs from you. You take over the kiss, comfortably stroking his hair as you drag your tongue along his lower lip and slide it into his mouth. Papa keens, grabbing onto your ass and parting his lips wider for you. When you finally part, you tug him by his waistband toward the bath.

“No more distractions. Get naked, your Dark Excellency.” Papa does as you say, no hiding. He’s a proud man, and now that he’s no longer trying to hide an erection from you, he strips his pants and underwear off and tosses them aside. You smirk at the sight of his cock, and pat the side of the tub. Dragging a purple cloth through the steaming water, you bring it to his thighs once he’s seated beside you, over where some of the cum has dried against his skin. You dab the cloth along his hipbone, across his stomach, and just below where his cock rests soft against the inside of his right thigh. You clean along his shaft, careful not to stir him again, and wet his hand as well, going so far as to rest your head on his shoulder as you do so. Papa lets you, breath steady. You can hear his heartbeat, and it makes yours beat faster. After a second, he reaches a hand up to his face, and you realize he's wiping a tear away. "What's wrong?" you ask. "Ah, not a thing. Nobody has ever done this for me, you see." He pats your leg. "I thank you."

Once Papa’s clean, you let the cloth hang over his sink. Bath all in order, you walk out of the bathroom to leave him be. It was probably a one time thing, anyway.

“Sorella. Will you stay?” You turn back, and Papa’s sitting on the edge of the bath, rubbing his arm. “I hate to see my lovers go. You… I feel differently about you. I do not ever want to see you go.”

“I have duties,” you reply gently.

“I am Papa,” he says, waving a hand dismissively. “You do not any longer.”

“You’re used to getting your way, aren’t you?” you ask. That shy look creeps back.

“Not when I’m with you, eh?”

Giggling, you let his door close. No use arguing with a man who’d jerk off in a hallway instead of admitting he had a crush. 


End file.
